Surat: Epitome of Gujarat Model

Ashleshaa Khurana

As ‘the Gujarat Model’ becomes the centre of political debate this election season, no other city in the state stands as significant as Surat. Last week, our city was judged as India’s best city to live in for the amenities it offers its citizens . For Surtis, it has always been the way of good life they have lived since ages.This is a trend that Tapi town has been following since centuries. Development is ingrained in the basic roots of this district and its denizens and overcoming all odds that have come its way ,Surat has managed to outshine all other Indian cities when it comes to progress, here is why :

Trade : A globally renowned port, with extensive amounts of commodities including textile and precious stones,exported out of and imported in here, Surat was one of the major money spinners of India as early as the fifteenth century.Surat’s markets were called ,”as populous as those in London” by Peter Mundy . With its constant international and national visitors of the mercantile community, many of whom settled here, it was a cosmopolitan centuries before Bombay, Delhi, Chennai and Calcutta.

Finance: Records state that Surat’s local businessmen from Surat like Virji Vora, Hari Vaishya, Mulla Abdul Gaffur who bankrolled the administration be it Mughal or British, lending lakhs of rupees in those days to the governing authorities, so that the city would have a steady governance to enable the traders to function better in their business. Surat’s shroffs controlled the price of the bullions and decided the rates at which gold from around the world would be exchanged here.

Infrastructure:  Built in 1510,Gopi Talav ,the city’s much celebrated lake had enough capacity to provide water to the entire city and a system to collect rain water ,as well cisterns to purify it from mud and dry leaves. Sir Thomas Roe , the English diplomat who obtained farmans for the English to trade in Surat in the 17^th century wrote how ,”Surat is the fountainhead and life of all East India trade. The road to Swally (Suvali) and the port of Surat are the fittest in all the Mughal’s territory.  The Surat-Agra-Delhi business corridor existed even 400 years ago as a major trade route! Edward Terry, chaplain at the English Factory of Surat penned,”Surat has luxurious summer houses with garden walks, fountains and bathing places that the wealthy merchants of Surat have built for them outside the city. Jari and textile industries took advantage of electricity as early as 1920’s thanks to Surat Electric Company.

Education : Surat was the seat of the learned Jain Bhataraks since the 14^th century.One of India’s earliest universities the Arabic IBO University,originally founded by the 43^rd Dai Syedna Abdeali Saifuddin in 1814, is located in Zhampa Bazar,home town of the foremost among litterateurs Kavi Narmad, Surat had a world class library –The Andrews Library way back in 1850,stacked with tomes from around the world ,even though India’s literacy rate at the time of Independence was only 12.2%

Agriculture and animal husbandry: The Encyclopedia of Indian Agriculture include Fryer’s accounts the 17^th century describing Surat’s fields growing in abundance potatoes and brinjals .The Portuguese brought in the cultivation of potatoes which they called ‘Batata’ as we still do.Abu Fazl’s early records praises the pineapples, pomegranates, custard apples,mangoes and oranges grown here.  While the hundreds of little villages which surround Surat grew in abundance everything from cash crops like poppy, to sugarcane to cotton, the city has had Panjarapol since more than 250 years now where the best of the veterinarians attend to cattle needs.

  What Women Want

International Women's Day 2014 is themed on 'Inspiring Change'

Centuries after neurologist Sigmund Freud failed to psychoanalyze what it was that women want, and more than a hundred years of International Women’s Day celebrations later, modern man is still clueless about what it is that women want.

Maybe be it would help a little if we began with what men want. Peace, love, joy, money, power, sex,success and adventure would wrap all that an average man would desire in his life. The truth is, women are no different and require all of the above equally.

But here is where the rules of the game differ when it comes to men and women. She goes through PMS, labour and childbirth, yet is called the weaker sex because she is naturally inclined to be more emotional and sensitive. She runs home, hearth, handles saas-bahu issues playing both the roles, and raises the children while he is called the man of the house. She multitasks and steps out to earn but has to constantly protect her reputation in doing so. Men who go about womanizing are called ‘dudes,’ women who find it in their heart the capability to love more than one man are immediately branded being sluts. If he raises his voice for anything, he is a hero, if she has the courage to do so, she is a ‘burn the bra feminist who wants to be a man ‘

International Women’s Day is a special day designated for women to come forward seize the day to pledge and promise themselves first, and their mothers, sisters and daughters that they will be the change they need to see. Whether it is women in space, more lady pilots, more leaders, more activists amplifying for women’s rights to issues ranging from abortion to commercial sex workers, with every advancing generation, women are getting one step further towards their goal, breaking barriers the globe over.

What women need to do is think global and act local. Even as they love to adorn themselves , they need to be beyond being just an object of beauty seeking appreciation. Women need not cite a hero among them, for they all are one, just the way they are, all they need to do is realize it and never give up on themselves ,especially when all others do.

 That is why IWD is important. Happy Women’s Day.Celebrate being you, just the way you are.

Surat's Legendary Namesakes

Call it co-incidence or otherwise, but every place in the world worth going to has another place by the same name ;Surat being no exception to this law of tourism, has a town in Thailand named similar to it –Surat Thani which also has a river Tapi flowing by ,if you please. The province which means ‘city of good people’ was thus called by King Vajiravudh –Rama VI only as recently as 1915. Our good old Tapi town on the other hand, has been known as Surat since ancient ages and has more than one tale attached to the reason it is so called.

How did the name ‘Surat’ come about? Whom is the city named after? What does its name mean? Historians and poets through the ages have pondered over these questions much before you and I did; which has caused speculation regarding the same to run rife in books penned long ago. Some suggestions abide by historic happenings others are merely inspired by local folklore, but, all make interesting stories behind the raison d’être of Surat’s name.

Surat Itihaas Darshan Vol I informs readers that the word ‘Surti’ has its first written reference in an essay ‘Kahanadde’(1456 A.D), which mentions Khambhat and Rander as well. Surat finds its first mention in Jain scriptures dated 1478 .Tapi Puran which is believed to have been written during the 16th century mentions the river as being Suryaputri –the Sun god’s daughter and hence the town was called Suryapur .Ancient texts also mention numerous prayer rituals which were carried out as a salute to the Sun from here and the religious importance attached to the same.

Poet Narmad’s take on the town’s namesake theories are as varied as his works and laced with a certain romance. One of his stories goes that Surat was so christened by Khwaja Safar Suleimani aka Khudawand Khan who built the Castle .Narmad suggests that the town is named after Khan’s amour with a lady named Surat. Another one of Narmad’s fables speaks about a trader named Rumi from Constantinople who fell in love with a concubine called Surtha, she belonged to the harem of the Emperor of Turkey. Both escaped the wrath of the royal rage and sailed out into the sea. They arrived on the shore of Tapi opposite to Rander and set up the trading port with the permission of Gujarat’s sultan. Rumi met with great success thereafter and named the town Surat after his lady love.

Surat also has its share of royal stories that suggest that it has been named after kings. One of them reads that the king of Kamrej had land measuring 1400 vinghas here which had 14 wells. Kavi Narmad tried to find all 14 and is believed to have listed 10. The Bhagwad Golmandal Kosh states that the owner of Surajwadi was Sursen, an heir of the king of Kamrej and that our town has been named after him. Author Ishwarlal Ichharam Desai has written in ‘Surat Sonani Murat’ that Surat was named as the capital of King Surath who has been mentioned in a text named ‘Govind Das Erakrchara’penned by Govind Das,a disciple of Chaitanya Mahaprabhu.
French traveller Anquetil Du Perron of Paris, who visited Surat in 1758 mentions in his travelogue that a popular folklore here is about a prominent fisherman called Suratji Mahigir. A leader who protested against the Portuguese attacks and urged the Sultan of Ahmedabad to have a strong castle built to protect the locals. According to Perron, Surat was named after Suratji.

While some believe that the town was named after Malik Gopi’s mother Suraja ,historian Mohan Meghani informs readers via his book ‘Solmi sadi nu Surat’ about the folk lore of trader Malik Gopi who built Gopi Talav and set up the town as a successful trading port .Legend goes that he inherited immense wealth from a beautiful nautch girl named Suraj whom Gopi’s widowed mother served as house help. Suraj willed all her wealth to Gopi and later left for Hajj, never to return. Upon achieving great success as a trader and the title of Malik in 1515, Gopi called for Brahmin to name the trading town and suggested they name it ‘Suraj’, as a tribute to the generous lady who had left him her entire fortune. The reigning Mughal Sultan Muzzafar Shah however thought it would be inappropriate to name the town after a courtesan and suggested the word ‘Surat’ instead.

Suraa is the Arabic word used to mention every stanza of the Holy Quran and the Indian Muslim version of the same is known as Suraat.

British Punch: A Surti Concoction

BRITISH PUNCH: A SURTI CONCOCTION

You know from Eastern India came
The skill of making punch as did the name.
And as the name consists of letters five,
By five ingredients it is kept alive

It is a curious fact, not generally known, that Britain’s favourite alcoholic beverage – Punch, was stirred up in the English factory at Surat. The word itself is derived from the Hindustani word Palepunsche or Panch; meaning ‘five’ which were the number of ingredients that added up to prepare the spirit.

In an account of the English factors at Surat,in his book on ‘Early Records of the British Settlements in India’,J.Talsboy .Wheeler narrates how on Fridays ,after prayers, the President and a few friends met for the purpose of drinking to the health of their wives ,whom they had left in England.” Some made to their advantage of this meeting to get more than they could well carry away, though every man was at liberty to drink what he pleased, and to mix the arrack as he thought fit or to drink Palepuntz which is a drink consisting of aqua vitae,rose-water,juice of citrons, sugar and cinnamon.”

This recipe I give to thee,
Dear brother in the heat.
Take two of sour (lime let it be)
To one and a half of sweet,
Of old arrack pour three strong,
And add four parts of weak.
Then mix and drink. I do no wrong —
I know whereof I speak.

That the Brits found the heat and dust in India unbearable is no state secret. Besides, the locally available arrack was as traveler Bernier put it,” a drink very hot and penetrate, like the brandy made of corn in Poland.” Little wonder then, that diluting the arrack in the punch provided the high without heat to the English.” It (punch) acts as a drug, for, it cleanse the stomach, and dissipates the superfluous humours by a temperate heat particular to it.” wrote the traveler who highly approved of the decoction.

And if I get drunk, well, me money's me own
And them don't like me they can leave me alone
I'll chune me fiddle and I'll rosin me bow
And I'll be welcome wherever I go.


Another factor that made punch extremely popular was that it was affordable. As Philip Anderson states in,’The English in Western India’,”The soul of a feast which is good wine was to be found nowhere but in the Dutch and English factories. Usually imported from Shiraz or the Canaries it was available at six crowns a bottle.” On festive days, two common tables were laid out, one where the Governor and higher servants dined while the other was appointed to the English factors and writers, differing only in this, ’one had a great deal of punch and little wine and the other what wine you please, and a little punch” The finest arrack flowed in from Goa and Bengal and was best savored by diluting its strength in punch. During winter months, local toddy replaced arrack. Often, factors like Fryer carried brandy in a flask and diluted it with sherbets when invited to teetotaler dinners by the Surti moors.
What more diversion can a man desire?

Than to sit him down by an alehouse fire
Upon his knee a pretty wench
And upon the table a jug of punch


Tapi town was once tipple town and its taverns were popularly visited by English sailors. Anderson further writes,” Cases of poisoning were said to be frequent in these taverns. The rude manners of British seamen led them to use a freedom with the dark ladies. A rough kiss or an offensive piece of raillery would often result in the sailor paying penalty by his death. The black wench whose employment was to make that beloved mixture of arrack and punch would contrive in a subtle skillful manner to make the punch bowl fatal for the man who abused her, while his companions drank without the slightest injury to themselves.”

Punch was as popular with the Dutch as it was with the English. At Surat’s Dutch cemetery, there once existed a tomb with a huge punch bowl in stone on top. Made in the memory of a merry maker who wanted his friends to come drink and celebrate each time they visited his grave.

And when I'm dead and in my grave
No costly tombstone will I crave
Just lay me down in my native peat
With a jug of punch at my head and feet.

Ghazal's Unforgettable Maestro

Ghazal’s Unforgettable Maestro

It’s been a month since his unfortunate death, yet, this columnist, along with millions of other fans world over, can’t quit mourning the silence of ghazal’s soothing yet tragic voice because we relate our lives to his songs.

My earliest memories of listening to ghazals albeit without then understanding their beher (meter), are of those at parties my parents threw for their Gujarati theatre artist friends in our Bombay home. As the evening grew on, the LP would play out some soul stirring fare by Jagjit and his partner in rhyme - Chitra. Occasionally, the late and very handsome Pravin Joshi would hum along gently as one hand held a cigarette and the other hand gestured in the air while his eyes welled up. His wife, the original drama queen -Sarita Joshi ( now a television star) would go a step further and give a shot at a few light hearted graceful dance moments. The Ghazals lent their intensity to the ambiance with lilting lyrics like Nida Fazli’s,“Duniya jisse kehtey hai jaadoo ka khilona hai” and Firaq’s, “Bahut pehle se unn qadmon ki aahat jaan letey hai,tujhey ae Zindagi hum duur se pehchaan letey hai”

Later, we shifted base from Mumbai to Surat and the parents loved entertaining the locals at terrace dos (they still do, since old habits die hard).It is with much nostalgia and a very heavy heart that we reminiscence all afore heard songs now.

The magic of the maestro’s renditions lay in the fact that his compositions unpretentiously put convoluted Urdu poetry into simple harmonious tunes; which found way to the lips of the common man . So, you would have a Surti businessman swooning to the poetry of Faiz or that of the mellifluous Mirza Ghalib, totally oblivious of the ‘takhallous’, yet in perfect sync with Ghazal’s rules of 'Matla', 'Maqta', 'Beher', 'Kaafiyaa' and 'Radif' .Who could have imagined a Surti lala lisping, “unnke dekhe se jo aajaati hain muh per raunaq, woh samajhtey hai ke bimaar ka haal achha hai”, had it not been for Jagjit Singh.

It was his ear for well penned verse that made him stick to his guns when he insisted on recording as his first LP, the skillfully scripted “Baat niklegi toh duur talaq jayega,log bewajah udaasi ka sabab puchengey”, a nazm that he had chanced upon in the Urdu magazine ‘Shama’ ;even though previous efforts to record it had run out of luck, the LP version went on to become one of his greatest masterpieces. Who can forget the effervescent charm of “Teri khushbu mein basey khat mein jalaata kaise?” or the jugalbandhi of two ghazals sung as one,with genius tact – Sudarshan Faakir’s“ Ishq mein ghairratey jazbaat ney roney na diya” along with Khwaja Hyder Ali’s “ Yaar ko mainey mujhey yaarne soney na diya “

Lyrics for Singh’s first Gujarati ghazal album “Jeevan Maran Ek Chey “were verses of Gujarat’s Ghalib aka Mareez of Surat. Jagjit made sure his audience understood him well, he never missed an opportunity to take time out in between live concerts, to explain the lafz that he was going to sing, and this bonded him to his listeners’ big time. Be it Surtis at Indoor Stadium or The Royal Albert Hall, with its prim and propah crowd, none would hesitate to sing along in chorus, ’ahista,ahista’ to ,’shabe furkat kaa jaagaa huun farishton ab to sone do/ kabhii fursat mein kar lenaa hisaab ahista ahista’.

From Punjabi renditions teamed with humorous anecdotes to the tear jerker “Kagaz ki kashti ,woh baarish ka paani”, there was something for everyone .Other than his commercial cinema hits, his ghazals were for all of love’s seasons .Be it Sahir Hoshiyarpuri’s flirty,” Kaun kehta hai mohobbat ki zubaan hoti hai, yeh haqeeqat toh nigahon se bayaan hoti hai -the intoxication of new found love, to a lover’s yearning, from a jilted lover’s lament to love lost for ever.

I distinctly remember a comment by one of Surat’s popular surgeons, Dr Piyush Khanna, all starry eyed at the riverside lawns of a local five star hotel where Singh performed to an awestruck audience.” He is the real doctor alright, a doctor of broken hearts which he miraculously cures instantaneously.” Said the surgeon.

One of my favourite Jagjit – Chitra number is “Sunntey hai ke mil jaati hai hurr cheez dua se, ek roz tumhey maangke dekheyngey Khuda se.”

Alas! If only we could just ask him back from the Almighty.

Sufi Mystics of Surat

Sufi mystics of Surat

On the first day of Ramadan, this columnist was fortunate enough to visit the shrine of Hazrat Moinuddin Chishti. It is one place in the world that never fails to provide the serenity and solitude I seek, no matter how crowded it is. There is a certain magical mysticism linked with Sufi saints and believers often experience what poet Octavio Paz once best described it as:

'I did not have the imageless vision; I did not see forms whirl until they vanished in unmoving clarity, the being without substance of the Sufis. I did not drink the plenitude of the void …..I saw a blue sky and all the blues, from white to green, the spread fan of the poplars and on a pine, more air than bird, a black and white mynah. I saw the world resting on itself. I saw the appearances. And I named that half hour: The Perfection of the Finite.’

Gujarat’s belief in Sufism is at its prime in Ajmer and prevalent among the pilgrims there. The main entrance to Ajmer’s Dargah has’ Khwaja Garib Nawaaz ‘written in Gujarati text besides Urdu script. A ‘Khadim’ from Patel Gujarat house mediated my obeisance to the saint, whose legend says that he was simultaneously seen circumambulating the Khana-e-Kaaba, Mecca, during Haj, when he was actually still at Ajmer.

Upon my return, I discussed this observation with my learned friend Ayub Sopariwalla, who informed me about the Sufi saints of Surat, whose ‘roohs’ (souls) guard its people and preserve its prosperity. Curious to know more, I went around the popular shrines of Tapi Town and learnt that, since as early as the 12th century; Sufi saints began visiting and settling in Gujarat, spreading messages of peace and love within a melting pot of Hindu-Muslim cultures.

More than 400 years ago, five brothers from Bokhara traveled to Agra and then settled in Surat. Their knowledge in the field of relieving ailments seemed to have miraculous powers to provide relief and thus they gained immense popularity within the town. Till date, their Dargahs continue their mission.

Hazrat Dana Pir’s Dargah at Bade Khan Chakla, Gopipura is one of the above .Meet the mujawar here and you will get to know how the Hazrat overpowered an evil spirit and saved the locals. He further claims that,” During Urs, the lock on its gate unlocks by itself, then, the golden hand on the shrine waves down thrice and a little Dargah beside the adjacent mussafirkhana moves forward by the width of a rice grain.”

A lot of people visit here to offer miniature cloth horses as mannat against boons asked. Childless couples, upon being granted the same, donate grains against the infant’s weight. There also exists here, the grave of ‘shakkarwaley baba’ who helps tongue tied infants speak if their tongue is rubbed thrice against his tombstone. The child leaves a handful of sugar molasses in return.

Dana Pir’s other brothers Khwaja Khizr, Khwaja Didar, Khwaja Suleiman and Khwaja Madni are said to be the guards of Surat’s prosperity, residing besides the gates of the inner walled city .Visited by Muslim and Hindu believers alike, these shrines ring true the verse of the 15th century Sufi saint Shah Ali Gamdhani:
’ Haj jau hu ki Dwarka,ghar na koi dekhu paarka,sab khel pyaar ka.’

Alvida McBull Fida

Why M F Husain will live forever

‘Chund tasveerey butaan chund haseenoki khatut, baad marne ke mere gharse yeh samaan nikla’
(A few photographs and some love letters from my sweethearts is all that was found from my home after I died.)

Ghalib’s above mentioned couplet was among M F Husian’s favourites and now reads relevant, in his death. While life ended for him in exile, the painter who was perceived as India’s Picasso and awarded with highest honours like the Padmashree, Padma Bhushan and Padma Vibhushan, has left behind a vacuum in the art world that will never be reclaimed.

“He was a wonderful human being and I have yet to meet another of his caliber in my life. We had a long association. In 1999, during the production of Gajagamini, he was short of finances and I volunteered to work out the matter for him, he in turn, gave me some of the finest pieces of work. He loved sipping chai over which we shared fond memories. I was waiting for him to return to Dubai, was meaning to meet him soon, but alas!” reminisces Praful Shah, a connoisseur of Husain’s art and MD of Garden Silk Mills. The Garden Art Gallery in Surat was graded as one of the country’s finest by the artist when he had come to inaugurate it.Husain painted a scene from his childhood on a black canvas, holding the audience enthralled.

“Husain saab was a great philosopher, when he met my father and me, it was an absolutely unbelievable experience for us. My father expressed this thought aloud to which Husain saab replied, ’All of us build our individual karma, what goes around comes around .Our Karma pinds were destined to meet and hence, have we.” says VNSGU Professor of Art, Rajarshi Smart.

Surat’s renowned artist, late Jagdeep Smart, translated M F Husain’s biography in Gujarati – ‘Dadano Dangoro Lidho, Tene Toh Mein Ghodo Kidho’, named after a popular Gujarati limerick, it was co published in 2004 by Archer, Ahmedabad.

Written in Gujarati text to bring out nuances of, ‘Husain –Shailee’, Maqbool’s childhood, Husain’s artistry, Mc’s jovialness, Bull’s hidden grief and aggression (Husain often signed works as Mc Bull), M .F. Husain’s popularity and Fida’s volcanic love rush, translator Smart points out to the reader that he left intact Husain’s sentence formation, wordplay, Urdu verse so that the essence of the artist could flow to the readers.

Husain’s address to his own childhood reads: ‘O mara dost, mara balpun, taney aapna dadana ordani ae baari yaad chey ? Jemathi hu baharni duniyani nani nani vaarta o joya karta hata.Aapney joyu ghanu,janyu ochu’- O my friend,my childhood,do you remember that window in our grandfather’s room? From which we looked out at little itsy bitsy stories. We saw a lot, learnt little.’

Capturing Maqbool’s picturesque memory of ‘An earthen pot on a cot under the roof from which a silent lantern hangs ,a book below the pillow opened to page fourteen,a trunk of tin with two pairs of clothes,a dirty coloured blue shirt of a man,a broken chain from a bicycle,a velvety orange scarf,bamboo flute and a ring wrapped in fuchsia kite paper ’, to quoting Fida’s philosophy of, ’Modern art being a joyful labyrinthine of the fact that it gives the onlooker the right to perceive it with his own view and nature. Modern art’s nature is not royal but democratic. It looks like royalty; its lines proclaim self respect and its colours are luminous with pride.’

The book encases the very essence of Husain ,sketching out the artist’s meteoric rise from painting cinema hoardings to producing art cinema featuring his muse,Bollywood’s queen bee Madhuri Dixit in whom he envisioned his mother, his museum at Ahmedabad-Ahmedabad ni Gufa.While no one in the world can paint horses better than Husain,his favourite ride were bicycles.His cycle stuti philosophy read thus-’A cycle’s seat is a man’s head, handles two hands, pedals are feet, the boy (himself) sits on the carrier behind ,riding it seems as if the entire cycle is in his lap, or the boy is in the lap of the cycle. It can’t be said who is caring for whom cuddling the other in his lap.’

It enlightens the reader in the artists own words, about humble beginnings within Indore’s ‘naalawalu makaan’,to the cheeky ‘Bapuni shaadi ma beto diwaano’,from the nostalgic ’Dadanu achkan’ to joy filled ‘Vadodrani boarding school’ where his teacher helped him enact a Persian couplet-

‘Kasbe kamaalkun ki azeezat jahaan shavi/Kasbe kamaal niyarjad azeezey mann’-

‘One who has cultivated proficiency in arts and crafts is loved by all. But one lacking in those skills can never ever win hearts.’

A lesson that India’s finest artist preached not only in his life but also in death.

An open letter from an abandoned child

An open letter from destiny’s child


Dear Ma,
I often think about you, as I lie here in my hospital cradle. I miss the warmth of your womb where I lay snug and safe for nine months. Feeding from you as your foetus. Feeling along with you, your happiness and pain as I tossed and tumbled inside you. I heard the sounds of music you listened to and jigged with it in my own way within the space you so generously provided me. I am sorry but I dint mean to hurt you when I gave you that occasional kick from within, it was just my way of assuring you that I was okay and I existed.

It was not my intention to hurt you at all when I made way out, but your body had given signs that it was time for me to come and join you in your world outside. I cried because you cried .My favourite moment was when you first held me close; nothing will ever feel that good again.:-) .

There has been a lot of buzz around here since the time I have been brought to this new place. People bend over me in curiosity and give sweet smiles. I have also been photographed and featured in newspapers. I wonder if any of them reached you and if you recognized me. The people looking after me are called doctors. They are helping me get healthier by giving me something called antibiotics .I am also given infant nutrition but it doesn’t taste even half as good as what you fed me. :( . Last fortnight, they brought in another girl like me who was forgotten in a train by her mother, by mistake. The poor child refused to have anything for 16 hours until she was happily united with her mother.

Then last week, I got new company. This baby weighs twice my weight and is really cute. That’s what all the nurses say. She was wrapped in a cloth and left behind on the main road! I wonder why parents are becoming so forgetful these days. But you know what, when she was brought in here, another mother of an infant offered to feed her :-) I suppose breast milk does not differentiate between children. If her parents don’t come looking for her, maybe she will be my best friend at Nari Saurakshan Gruh ,where both of us will be growing up till our parents find us .I hear they celebrate all festivals and holidays and have good health and educational programmes. But I would rather celebrate my birthday with you; will you be able to find me by then?

I am looked after lovingly by the inmates of that institution. Instead of one mother I have many. But you know what? I miss you. Do you miss me too? I hope you do.

Today is a very special day for girls, I hear.The town has been fasting, observing Navratri before Ram Navmi, praying for health, wealth and happiness from all the avatars of Goddesses. Little girls like me are called ‘Kanjaks’ meaning incarnations of Goddesses .They will be invited at homes and people will wash their feet and bow in front of them asking to be blessed. The little giggling girls will be given goodies and gifts. If I could talk and someone asked me what I wanted for a gift, I would most certainly ask to be united with you.

They say I am a survivor, some bad people buried me alive but I called out loud from below the earth mounds and made it .They have named me after one of the sports champion in town and I hope to make my mark in this world ,as she has. I will. And just as her parents are so proud of her, I hope you and Papa will be too. :-)

Hugs and kisses,

Destiny’s child.

MEMOIRS OF A ‘TEXTOIL’ TYCOON

Memoirs of a 'textoil' tycoon.


‘A story like mine should never be known, for my world is forbidden, fragile and well, fatuous. I was born in a faraway land, in the lap of luxury, thanks to the toil of my predecessors. My childhood was the happiest phase of my life; a time when I could be and express myself and have nobody judge me for it, when friends were just that, when my surname was not an invisible decorum ;Then, I grew up.

’ Go make a life ‘, they said.’ See the world for yourself. We have set up a textile mill for you; all you have to do is run the show.’ I smiled to myself; this meant Independence, an opportunity to prove my ability. I wanted a life that was mine to live, this was going to be it or so I thought.

I had read that the Parsis considered themselves as sugar when they first arrived in Gujarat to mingle in and spread sweetness; I thought of myself as water. Water can carve its way through even stone and no matter how tough a time I would face, I was ready to work my way out from it.Ah! But I was young then, and naïve.

So, I gave up my city of joy, its club culture and cosmopolitan crowd .Trading old girlfriends for a wife, my top end car for a second hand model and a palatial mansion for a condominium that was part of the mill premises was not exactly as much adventurous fun as books otherwise make it out to be. I often wonder if that wry smile on father’s face when he talked about Surat actually meant that he knew it was part of a ‘dry state’ area. Freedom came with its own set of limitations here, I realized it much later.

A man’s power cannot be judged by his appearance alone-It’s the first lesson my mill labourers taught me as they twisted me around their little fingers. I learnt to adjust myself to filthy surroundings, gutter tongue and toxic air; the moolah mania overpowered all other senses. Competition and inflation were yet to take over, making good money was really easy; I was determined to not seek to defeat the men I was competing, I had decided to defeat their confidence, taking myself to unreachable heights.

I was quick to make it to the top slot. But dreams, alas! They can either make or break you. As you try and make them come true, you must live both the sides of that desire. With power also comes responsibility and if you cannot handle both, there will be none left.

Through the years, my life turned to routes I had never foreseen, the city took back as much as it gave, monetarily and socially. My wife switched from a veiled, head nodding docile daughter in law to a vain, haughty socialite whom I no longer recognized. Was she in the wrong company, I wondered? But then again, her inner circle was that of my community, how could I blame the city? The women in Surat are modern, I admire that, they voice their opinion, wear what they want and even as they are feminine, think themselves no less then the man they are with. They are also traditional in their own way and for an outsider to come understand and balance both, is a tall order. My children have a life of their own, and I certainly won’t be the one to write their future.

I sit back and realize the only three things that matter in life are- cricket, business and war. Understand one and you will understand all .This past week, has provided a peek into all three.

With our union still on strike against yet another price hike, I shall spend the present week thinking about my gains and loss.

One cannot read loss, only feel it. So, here I am, a lonely Lala, penning thoughts in a diary that will never be read.’

Mirza Ghalib's Shagird -Sayyah

MIRZA GHALIB’S SURTI SHAGIRD

  Nestled within the hustle bustle of the area known as Badekhan Chakla, is one of Surat’s heritage monuments - Khwaaja Daana Saheb’s Dargah.The Mausoleum of a famous saint who traveled from Agra to Baroda to Surat in the 15th century .Just as all rouzas do, this place provides for peace and quiet to staunch believers who come here to pray and pay respect. 

Circumferential to Khwaja Daana Saheb’s place of rest are various other tombs, those of his direct descendants. One among these is that of Nawab Gulam Baba Khan, a patron of Delhi’s great poet Mirza Ghalib. Next to him, is buried Sayyah-one of Ghalib’s favourite students. Although the renowned poet never visited Gujarat, he kept in touch with Gujarat’s Mirs via his wonderful letters.

 ‘Qasid ke aatey aatey khat ek aur likh rakhoon,main jaanta hoon jo who likhenge jawaab mein’ 

Ghalib tutored the glamour of Urdu grammar to many students through his impeccable penmanship and was particularly fond of Mian Dad Khan, bestowing him the pen name ‘Sayyah’, meaning traveler.Ghalib penned him thirty-five letters from 1859-1869, discussing various topics. Sayyah was a courtier at Nawab Mir Gulam Baba’s palace and it was he who introduced Ghalib to this patron.Ghalib loved to travel but in absence of good health and apt means, it was Sayyah who corresponded to him about various places in India where he traveled to.

 In the book Mirza Ghalib and the Mirs of Gujarat, author Mir Jaffar Imam shares the letters Ghalib wrote to Sayyah.The beauty of Ghalib's prose was equal to that of his verse.The personal letters written by Ghalib during his last years to the kith and kin of author Mir Jaffar Imam,show Ghalib's most vulnerable and sentimental profile.

One of them reads thus when translated- “Well if I cannot travel, I’ll content myself with the thought that ‘to hear of pleasure is to experience half of it.’ So let me enjoy the story of Mian Dad Khan Sayyah’s travels and tours.” 

Syed Zahiruddin Madani who wrote ‘Sukhanrvarne Gujarat’ mentions how Sayyah was a connoisseur of elegant and well stitched clothing and ordered the same from Delhi; he also had a penchant for perfumes and collected various ittars from around the country.Once, Mirza Ghalib sent him six caps like the one he wore himself but Sayyah gave them to Gulam Baba, wearing none himself. 

Sayyah’s luxurious lifestyle and extravagant habits led to his involvement with some people of dubious character, who printed counterfeit currency. Once, Sayyah used a counterfeit Rs.100 note at the Victoria Terminus and was sentenced to fourteen years upon getting caught but, was pardoned and set free when he wrote a verse in the honour of Queen Victoria’s jubilee celebrations. 

Although a Diwan of Sayyah ‘s works is not available, he published a book ‘Saire Sayyah’ in 1872, which was a travelogue featuring his visits to mushaiyaras in cities such as Hydrabad,Mysore,Madras,Delhi,Meerut,Lucknow,Banaras and so on. The book ‘Lataaif-e-Ghaibi’ written by Sayyah is credited to Ghalib who many scholars believe was its original writer.

 ‘Khat likehnge garche matlab kuch na ho/Hum toh aashiq hai tumhare naam ke’

 In his book ‘Surat sonani murat’, author Ishwarlal Desai has described how Ghalib and Sayyah shared a unique father and son relationship.Ghalib mostly referred to him as ‘Barkhurdar’,or ‘Munshi sahab ‘or ‘Dost’. Ghalib and Sayyah both shared the grief of losing several children none of whom survived beyond infancy. The Ustad consoled his shagird through his letters and related to his irreplaceable loss.

He conferred Sayyah with the title’Saif Ul Haq’ (the sword of God) and wrote to him”By giving you the title, I have appointed you the commander of my army. You are my hands, you are my arms, you will be the weilder of the sword of my speech.” Proud of being his ustad’s favourite, Sayyah once wrote “The shadow of grace of Ghalib has graced me, what matters if the wings of Phoenix do not bless me with their shadow.”

He further penned with great pride, “Hai talmaz Assadullah se humko Sayyah, shaayaro mein ho na kyun fakhre madar apna”

Wali Muhammed Wali

ASHES TO ASHES, DUST TO DUST?
Ashleshaa Khurana

Ajab shehron mein pur nur aek shehr bila shak hai voh jag mein maqsad-e-deher ke mash-hur us ka naam Surat ,keh jawey jis ke dekhey sab kudurat ............vahaan saakin ite hain ahl-e mazhab,ke ginti mein naa aaven unke mashrab agarche sab hain voh abnaa-e aadam,vale beenash mein rangaarang-e aalam

Penned in ‘Rekhta’ (ancient Urdu), the above words were part of a masnavi written in praise of Surat by India’s first Urdu poet, Wali Muhammed Wali;also known as Wali Gujarati because he lived and died in our state. Wali’s brilliant prose put Urdu poetry on the world literary map. A rough translation of the text above, provided by poet Max Babi, reads-

“Amongst the delights of humanity is a brilliant city ,one which draws people to quaff celestial joy ,it goes by the name of Surat ,one sheds all malice as it alights on the eye………
so many people of so many religions live there ,their sects cannot be possibly counted ,even though they are all progeny of Adam, in appearance however, they are a multicoloured spectrum.”

Wali, who educated himself via his travels couldn’t have described our town or its visitors better. Besides being the hub for global trade, Surat was also the land where agents of several nations vied with each other to live in the greatest splendour.

It was here that the English first came in contact with the Armenians; it was here that the French gained the unenviable title of being pirates and plunderers, where the Portuguese and the Dutch competed die hard for remaining the masters of maritime trade.

In The Journal of Asiatic Society of Bombay, A F Ballasis records how the English presidents in town dined in ‘vessels and dishes which were all of massive silver and each course was ushered in by a flourish of trumpets and a band of music played during dinner’He also points out, ‘men who lived in such grandeur may naturally be supposed to have emulated each other in erecting ostentation tombs to commemorate their dead’

Undoubtedly, the cemeteries of the English, Dutch and Armenians in Surat are its most grand heritage. England’s Oxenden brothers buried here within tombs which have been described to be of ‘unsurpassed grandeur’ even in Europe, standing tall at forty feet, with a twenty five feet diameter and lofty cupolas.

Many historians have remarked that by adorning their tombs with fine marble, frescos, passages from scriptures and windows with wood carvings the Dutch and English competed to out do each other even in death and tried to impress their status on locals ; how ‘The object of raising Baron Adrian Von Reede’s monument was to eclipse the English cemetery’.

While most of the graves are of women of honour, men of status and innocent children, J Ovington mentions in his travelogue, the grave of a certain merry Dutch man whose last wish was rather strange and whenever his friends visited his grave they,” remembered him there sometimes so much that they quite forgot themselves.”.

Believed to be a relative of the Prince of Orange, banished to Surat by the Dutch government, his was supposedly,’ the most discreditable grave at the burying ground ‘, according to the Calcutta Review,’ the notorious tippler had enjoined that a stone punch bowl be placed on his tomb’s summit and smaller punch bowls with sugar loaves at the corners of his tomb.’ His friends would visit him at night and revel in merry making by preparing punch atop his grave and ladle it in the smaller bowls as they sang,”Oh! That a Dutchman’s draught could be; As deep as the rolling Zuyder Zee”

Yes, there are many strangers from foreign lands buried in Surat;surrounded by fragrant frangipani trees, their tombs are officially ‘reckoned as the most important historical monuments in the city’by the SMC, which provides details of the same on its website. Protected by the Archeological Survey of India (ASI), they all rest in peace .

As for Wali, who died 1707;alas! his mazaar is but a razed road in Ahmedabad since the last nine years.

At the Core-Book review

AT THE CORE-GLIMPSES AT SURAT’S GLORY


Surat is one of the fastest growing cities in the world sparkling as bright as diamonds that are polished here(80% of the entire world's uncut stones are polished here); a town by the river Tapi which holds its place in history with illuminating memories of a glorious past. Here is where the Sun God presided, the city named Suryapur after him, Rander on the yonder shore named after his wife Rannade, Tapi known as his daughter-Suryaputri, part of which is renowned as Gupt Ganga, where the Ganges visits to wash her sins.

The original Gateway to India for the globe, where flags of 84 countries once furled high making a statement for the town’s trading talent. With the advent of visitors and settlements came the array of heritage that weaved itself within this textile town’s social fabric and till date reflects in Surat’s culture and construction.

‘At the Core’, Understanding the built heritage of Surat and Rander - a book by Urban Management Centre (UBC),supported by Surat’s Municipal Corporation (SMC), provides a peek into the past, within the walled city which was once a melting pot of global culture and commerce. Co-authored by UBC’s founder director Manvita Baradi and deputy director Meghna Malhotra, the book is beautifully wrought and consistently appealing.

Post an introduction to Tapi town by SMC Commissioner Ms.S.Aparna, the book begins with Surat’s extensive dateline which goes way back to 300BC, when it was known as Laat Pradesh and proceeds to its position as the best performing JnNURM city in present times. This documentation goes far deeper to the core within; providing Surat’s history to the significance of data.

An expansive study of structures within the old walled city,’At the Core’ brings forth the expressive embellishments on Surat and Rander’s listed buildings of heritage value zooming in on about 2,417 from the 4,450 listed by the Surat Municipal Corporation.

Photographed by the staff and associates of UBC, the pictures provide an opportunity to soak in at ease intricate wood carvings within the timber and teak from Burma and Dang which were treated to withstand weather. While locals will instantly be able to recognize and relate to these, captions of locations would have been a helpful hint to tourists.

A handful of black and white aces which are in a class of their own have been clicked by Surat’s legendary photographer V. N. Mehta and have been generously shared by his great grandson Rajesh Mehta are fabulous and reminiscent of the city in the early and mid twentieth century and have successfully captured the essence of Surat’s spirit and spunk

The architecture within the inner city influenced by Arabesque style from the Mughal period to European and Colonial style combined with traditional style and skill of local workmanship displays genius craftsmanship within structures which now look dilapidated at first look. But then, lets not forget, this city has survived fires and floods, ravaging and plague and still stands tall.

From secret catacombs in basement of the Nagarsheth‘s haveli which were a safe passage to the river banks during the Maratha raids to stained glass window panes and Art Deco styling with skylights that brought in the sunlight with row houses that ran side by side from ornamental ‘otlas’ (front porches) upto service entry ‘vadas’ (backyards).The intermingling of ancient and modern fresco and design is visible in a wide and vast variety in segments of the city where people of privilege resided. The built heritage suggests the then veritable economic boom in a city which by no means has ever had a sluggish economy.

Enriched by ancient maps and paintings provided from the British Library Board to modern day satellite visuals,it documents the ‘Sheharpanah’ and ‘Alampanah’,Surat’s old inner and outer city walls along with its twelve entry gates.Since Rander was the Southern tip of Bharuch at the time this book chronicles in, it has been named separately .
Unlike Ahmedabad, Surat and Rander do not have any structures by Le Corbusier but, its orderly grid of sheris, majestic ovaras and jharokhas, artistic chabutras and cemeteries, lofty fort, intricately carved mosques and temples are proof enough of the finest architecture of its time in a city which was influenced by maritime trade and was cosmopolitan centuries ahead of the rest of India.

‘At the Core’ packages all that and more while simultaneously weaving the warp and weft of history, the wealth of which is as rich as the kinkhwab and brocade woven within its heritage structures.

Girls just wanna have fun

  The world will celebrate the 100th anniversary of International Women's Day tomorrow, a movement begun by efforts of women in the West who paraded demanding equal voting and working rights. It was the tragic ‘Triangle Fire’ in New York city on March 25, 1911 which took the lives of 140 immigrant Italian and Jewish working women that drew significant attention to the state of work conditions and labour legislation which became the focus of ‘IWD’.

 While ladies in the West were fighting for their rights through the 20th century, Indian women were fighting for Independence among whom Usha Mehta, a Surti woman, stood out for her bravery against the British system.

 Born on 25th of March,1920, Mehta met Gandhiji at the mere age of seven where she was influenced by the simplicity and self dependence ashram style, an attendance at his meeting in Olpad inspired her enough to form a team of children who fought for freedom with all their might in a non violent way in 1928 ,shouting ‘Simon go back.’ The boy gang called themselves ‘Vaanar sena’ (monkey army), so the girlie gang named themselves 'Manjar sena "(cat army). They traded their play time to sell Khadi from door to door, distributed clandestine bulletins, carried messages to prisoners and also picketed at liquor shops discouraging alcoholics from buying booze.

”It was not child’s play, but the police could not put us under arrest and we were excited to do our bit for the country.” Reminisces Leelaben Parekh, 92, an ex social worker, who would picket with her gang of girls at shops near the Bhagal crossroads.

 The girls dressed in tri coloured.Green blouses, Red petticoats and White chunnis made from Khadi;these’ live flags’ were put together by their mothers and grandmothers and would sing slogans which were their only weapons,”Ae policewalloh, chalao lathi, chalao danda; jhuk na sakegaa apna jhandaa” 

During the civil disobedience movement in 1930, 30,000 Surtis greeted Gandhiji.Women in the old walled city decorated streets with marigold flowers to greet Gandhiji and his followers. Though he had asked men to participate in the Satyagrah, women became mass participants of the freedom movement for the first time, thousands participated .In Zareer Masani's ‘Tales of the Raj’, Usha Mehta noted how,” Even our old aunts and great aunts and grandmothers used to bring pitchers of salt water to their houses and manufacture illegal salt and then they would shout at the top of their voices,’ we have broken the salt law!” 

 United Nations secretary general Ban Ki-moon has congratulated our creed and announced that this year’s agenda for International Women’s day focuses on education, training, Science and technology,” Cell phones and Internet can enable women to improve the health and well-being of their families, take advantage from income earning opportunities, and protect themselves from exploitation and vulnerability.” 

 Surat’s gutsy gal Usha Mehta used technology to protect the country from exploitation and vulnerability way back in 1942.After being the first to hoist the Tri colour on August 9th that year along with Aruna Asaf Ali at Gawalia Tank ground which was rechristened August Kranti Maidan, Mehta set up the Secret Congress radio with the help of friends which kept Indians in touch with the thoughts of freedom leaders. 

 On the 14th of August when almost the entire Congress leadership was jailed after Gandhiji’s speech,Usha Mehta’s voice resonated through the country .The first words that India heard were hers ,”This is the Congress radio calling on 42.34 metres from somewhere in India.” 

When this 22 year old was later arrested for the same, she fearlessly refused to lie in court in spite of knowing it would have helped her escape conviction. So petrified were the Britishers by her chutzpah for freedom that even when this petite five feet tall was hospitalized, they would have four policemen guarding her from escaping.

 For many young women like her, the Gandhian civilian disobedience movement provided an alternative to conventional marriage and domesticity. Miss.Usha Mehta was the first political prisoner to be released in free India and she was bestowed with Padma Vibhushan.a promoter of Eco friendly cottage industries, she believed the strength and art of our grannies and mothers were what would bring us progress. Her dream was that India transform from “Swarajya to Surajya”.Her nephew,director Ketan Mehta who has given us aces like ‘Bhav ni Bhavai” and ‘Mangal Pandey”has a home made script of one of India’s bravest hero.      

http://www.timescrest.com/society/coolie-number-1-4814

MIRZA GHALIB IN GUJARAT
Ashleshaa Khurana

On 15th of February, 1869, the greatest flag bearer of ‘Rekhta’-Urdu poetry, Mirza Asadullah Baig Khan better known by his non de plume ‘Ghalib’ passed away in poverty at his haveli in Bullimaran,Old Delhi.

Although he had never set foot in Gujarat, Ghalib had very strong liaisons with the Mir community in the state; his pupils and patrons with whom he kept in constant touch via his beautiful penmanship. According to him, communication through letters meant “sau kos se ba-zaban-e-qalam baatein kiya karo aur hijr mein visaal ke mazey liya karo” (Keep writing even from a hundred miles afar and keep alive the joy of meeting even in separation.)

“While Ghalib’s poetry in profound Persian had a divine connect, the prose in his letters focused on human relationships.”, points out veteran Urdu literary critic,Varis Hussain Alvi,retired Head of the Department,St.Xavier’s College, Ahmedabad, “Hence the text not only reads in simple Urdu but also in a very casual and conversational manner. His fondness for his disciples was remarkably obvious within his correspondence. He always addressed them as ‘beta’ or ‘dost’.”

In his book “Mirza Ghalib and the Mirs of Gujarat” author and direct descendant of the Nawab of Surat, Mir Jaffar Imam shares with readers sixty one letters addressed by Ghalib to patrons and students in Surat and Baroda. Among his favorite patrons was H H Nawab Mir Jafur Alee Khan of Surat. Ghalib saw a role model in the Nawab who, like him belonged to a military background and protested against the Britishers .He described the Nawab’s lineage as”Een Silsila Az Talae Naab Ast/ Een Khana Tamam Aftab Ast “(this family has sprung from the mine of purest gold, like the radiant Sun, it illuminates the globe) Upon the Nawaab’s death in 1863, Ghalib grieved deeply and wrote a Persian couplet in his honour.

Ghalib’s disciples in Gujarat wrote under the pen names of Sayyah, Wafa, Jadoo and Mayal.On being invited by Sayyah, his favourite Shagird, to Surat for a celebration. the master of mellifluous verse known for his rueful sense of humour wrote back how in his old age “Aana mera Surat tak kisi surat haaiz imkaan nahin” this lover of wine, women and song then added,” In Bombay and Surat English wines are available and if I would have come there and attended the celebrations, I would have drunk them”

Another verse written in praise of Mir Gulam Baba Khan’s initiative to educate the girl child ran thus, when translated, “The Begum’s school –going is a blessed event, made possible by the Nawab’s luck and pluck; as it is to further the Noble cause of learning, Let it bring for all a reign of joy profuse!”

A hundred and forty two years after his demise, Ghalib lives on in the hearts of Gujaratis.”One of his most oft quoted ghazals ‘Na tha kuch toh Khuda tha, kuch na hota toh Khuda hota, Duboya mujhko hone ne, naa hota main toh kya hota…..’ was a favourite with the Mir of Kamadhia, Gujarat”, says music writer Adil Bhoja,”interestingly, its last couplet runs, “Hui muddat ke Ghalib mar gaya, par yaad aata hai, woh har ek baat pe kehna, Ke yun hota toh kya hota.”
http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/surat/Ghalibs-Gujarat-connection/articleshow/7497462.cms

ode to undhiyu

http://www.timescrest.com/life/gujarats-winter-food-4676

http://www.timescrest.com/life/twelve-months-of-divas-and-dates-4453

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RESPECTED VIP, KINDLY RSVP

Dear VIP (very important politician),

Heartiest congratulations mister minister, from all us Surtis of this sparkling diamond city! Your contribution to our town has been quiet unequivocal and praiseworthy, in lieu of which you have been chosen to inaugurate our eighth flyover.

Built at a cost of Rs.59 crore, this 962 meters long piece of architecture is ‘Hors de prix’-priceless, because of the fact that not only did we uproot our signature mini Eiffel tower for it but also that denizens of an age group that ranges from kids upto the ready to kick the bucket kind, residing around it went through several sleepless nights so that it could be constructed in good time.

Many a night, beyond 1 a.m in the mornings, when the noise got unbearable and disturbed ailing elders, board exam students, pregnant mothers to be, newly born infants and us all, most of us dialed 100 to place a complaint at the Umra police station in vain, as we were promptly told to grin and bear the drone till the wee hours of the morning since, “flyover publicna sukh maatey baney chey, jetlu jaldi bani jay, public ne laabh thay.”(The flyover is for the benefit of the public, the earlier it is constructed, the better)

While the citizens of this area have sacrificed their sleep and are waiting to exhale with a sigh of relief to breathe easy, there are other Surtis who have sacrificed sweat,burnt petrol and boiled blood while trying to maneuver their vehicles with extreme difficulty on the rain ravished pot holed single track lanes, desperately awaiting the flyover to take over the problem of saving precious time, if not kilometers by smoothly branching out traffic.

School buses and the bachha brigade that rides on them are looking forward to return home earlier, Ambulances and fire brigade rescuers hope to reach their destinations faster, travelers to and from the airport where the lone flight arrives and departs during busy traffic hours within the town are looking forward to the brisk connectivity, as are railway passengers who will be able to access the station sooner. Surtis, who regularly saunter out on Sundays in search of the Arabian Sea, are looking to fly high over Parle Point’s first and only flyover that exists in this part of the town.

Since Diwali, we await the inaugural of the same and while officials are still non committal about the D date, we are sure you would know better about the reason why the same has been indefinitely delayed and postponed.

We Surtis are known to treat our guests like gods-Atithi Devo Bhav is our motto and out of habit, we shall tend to tempt you with our winter goodies such as Undhiyu, Ponk and Salempak.

Kindly take this request in right earnest and request your office to provide you a date so that you may grace the occasion of the Parle Point flyover’s inauguration with your august presence this December, so that we may all have a happy new year.

Truly, your sincere Surtis.

P.S.-While we make the best hosts, the average Surti does not care who takes the credit of this bone of contention between man and minister, because the priority here is about facility to, for and by the public, which was the original purpose. With our past record of inaugurating the Amroli bridge by ourselves and the present rumor of a Facebook campaign to walk over the flyover, hurry before we banish the barricades!

FESTIVE FINGER FOOD FARE

The spirit of festivals in countries around the earth revolves mainly around its traditions and traditional food fare. Surat being no exception enhances its sense of celebration with home made goodies that disappear as soon as they are dished out.

Migrants who have waded into the city for a better monetary future often wonder why the average Surti, however wealthy , is so proud of something as simple as ‘Diwali nastas’ and displays it with such maternal pride. Over time, these very same outsiders not only get hooked on to the tasty treats but more often than not end up imitating the trend.

Now that the marigold strewn lanes of Tapi town have been witness to the crispy fafda and crunchy jalebi fervor of Dussera, Surtis are all set to devour sinfully smooth gharis as they swoon below the Chandi padva moon. The week after which, woks and pans in domestic kitchens will be sizzling with savories.

The easy to make ready to fry last minute versions that are commercially available might give instant relief to many Surtis who are mental slaves to the festive favourites but these packed to fry versions wilt in comparison to the heavenly home made treats. The successes of these receipes lie in the purity of their ingredients as well as the exact tactfully measured amount from granny’s days, which have been rolled down the ages.

Uptill the 1960’s, Surtis often got their own custom made batch of nankhatais baked at local bakeries, by providing their own wheat flour, sugar and ghee to small time bakers who made tray full of these sweet cookies and marked them according to the orders placed by segregating them with different stones! Variations in these were the ones prepared from plain flour, sooji and milk, topped with almonds.

The original Diwali treats of Tapi town are the Ghooghras- which are basically hand made plain flour dumplings deep fried in clarified butter stuffed with minced milk mawa, embellished with dried fruit and nuts, with a hint of cardamom.

The flaky ‘cholafali’-a spiral of fried chola and udad dal twists sprinkled with a sudden burst of powdered spice are originally from Ahmedabad, where kiosks sell this preparation as a tea time snack around the year.

The ‘mathiyas’-a melt in the mouth version of fried papad made from the flour of math and udad dal are an innovation from Patels of Anand and Vadodra from where till date the best versions of these in an uncooked form are driven into town.

The ‘chakris’ –swirls of spicy wheat flour bound with fresh butter crunchies , that are known as Murrukku down south in their rice flour versions also have a new fancy avatars in chatpata ,roasted soy and bajri versions which of course are no threat to the evergreen sesame dotted originals.

Along with these main show stoppers, palates will also be pleased with thapdas, kharkhariyas and suvalis making it a cracker of a package that tastes as terrific as it sounds.

With the changing times, Surti gals who run non commercial ventures from homes have polished up their culinary skills to present new goodies to treat the town with.Rakhi Dhamanwala the pioneer of the rich and famous cheese samosas will be conjuring up diet friendly desi dry snacks, while the naturally gifted gourmet Sonia Sahni will be belting out sensuous sinful brownies that are laced with international chocolates. The effervescent charmer Cheena Bhatia has plans to present Mint, Toffee, Truffle and other exotic chocolates in pretty packaging.

Surat sure seems set for a sugar and spice and all that’s nice season ahead.